Empathy
by Caturday
Summary: Settings crafted with the South Park cast designed to make you feel. CHAPTER 4: Kyle/Bebe. -Reformatted for easier reading-
1. Serenity

_When it comes to fiction, what I really like to do is painting a scene. In my experience a good setting beats any kind of description. That's swell for me, because I dislike long descriptions and am a sucker for immersion._

_So, here comes the first setting I tried to make. Go ahead, put on some music, lean back in your chair, and just read. Of course some of you will be put off by the lack of a story, but there's nothing to lose, right? Hopefully I can get you to feel something as you read. Please enjoy._

_Serenity_

Dusk had settled in, embracing the world like a soldier his faithful wife. The sun, in search of its bed, left the sky in orange. Orange, like the leaves whispering tearful goodbyes to the trees in the end of summer. Orange, like the parka-clad boy settled beside the pond.

He stared into the sun, defiant of its flame. The twilight ignited a glint in his ocean eyes, and he smiled. He put his ear to the rustling breeze; watched as it disturbed the surface of the water; smelled its warm intention but caught the undeniable hint of frost to-come.

Ripples pranced throughout the pond, scattering the vermillion sunlight. The water sparkled. The boy lifted his hands and, with the tiniest hesitation, removed his thick hood. A strong gust lifted drops of water and spattered them in his face. He couldn't help but smile, relishing the feeling of refreshment.

Above him, he could make out the silhouette of birds. Birds that barely flapped their wings, but rather soared as they submitted themselves to the whims of the wind. Freedom. Not because they struggled against the forces larger than them, but because they gave in to their guiding flow. The trees around the pond joined in, crying their leaves upon the body of water. Leaves that would surrender to the stream, creating tiny ripples of their own.

The boy sat down in the earth, feeling the cool grass. In less than a month all this would be covered in snow, and the pond would be frozen once more. They would all go ice-skating, sledding, and have a good time in the cold. They would soon, but not yet.

His eyes fell on the dragonflies that hovered above the water. He saw the pair of them, dancing around each other, swaying as one to an inaudible ballad. He imagined he could hear them; hear the chirping of their never-resting wings; hear them relay words of comfort; vows of unconditional loyalty; hear their dragonfly hearts beat together, like two halves of a soul finally coming together.

The winds relented, and the ripples in the water began to fade. The boy laid his weary head in the grass, having it tickle his blonde hair. He gazed up at the sky, which was starting to turn dark. A crescent moon was already present beyond the dusk.

The birds seemed to slow down in their flight, in perfect harmony with the stilling of the pond. The last stirs etched over the boy's body, comforting him like a mother's lullaby. The trees fell silent and he let out a sigh. He would always be worrying; worrying about what might kill him this time; worrying about the sounds of shattering glass in his living room; worrying about things a boy shouldn't have to worry about.

He almost felt guilty that he was allowing himself this moment of rest. Yet he allowed the guilt to be carried away by his new-found comfort. His eyes were heavy. The first stars broke through as the sun issued its final salute to his world. Tomorrow would be another day. Another day to worry. But today, there was only peace.

Sweet dreams.


	2. Blackout

_Blackout_

_AN: I shouldn't, but I really wanted to post, so I did. I regret nothing. There's no such thing as a blue rose._

* * *

_Fourteen... fifteen..._

I have a game for you.

_Twenty-nine... Thirty..._

It's easy to play. You sit down in a room, take a pencil and paper, and just start counting. Try to count to sixty, and if you do, tally down a single line.

_Forty-one... forty-two... Forty-three..._

Beat my score! I've drawn eleven lines now. Well, along with a tearful smiley face, a little broken heart doodle and the word 'nevermore' scribbled in the corner.

_Fifty-four..._

Sounds chill right? Not very ingenious, but calming at least. Well, you're dead wrong. Because unless you're like my friend Kyle 'number-crunch' Broflovski, you're going to lose focus pretty damn quick. And if you lose count, you start down from one.

_Fifty-nine... Sixty..._

Wait- there's more. I forgot to mention that this is actually a drinking game. The Solitaire of Boozeplay, if you will. So pick your poison, and keep it close. Now, when your mind wanders, and you happen to think of something you regret, take a chug. Manifest the feeling. Have it seethe your throat as you down the spirits. It gets easier over time. Harder to count, yes, but easier to mourn. It all cools. The burning, the regret, it eases; spirals down in a multi-colored maelstrom of awareness.

_Twenty-eight... twenty-nine... thirty_

I guess this game comes naturally to some. Me, not so much. Too many things I regret, I suppose. Being born, for one. Costs me my edge, though there's plenty more. The school; the stupid things I said; the way I've let all my friends down, et-fucking-cetera. But of course, all those fade like stars at dawn in contrast to _her_.

_Seven... eight..._

I just can't wrap my head around it, you know. I've done everything. I would've sold my soul to the Devil for her, but she barely cared enough to come up with a decent explanation. Stutters, those I got; a bunch of "I'm sorry" nothings. The kind of bullshit I wouldn't even utter at my worst enemy's deathbed.

_Twelve... thirteen..._

I thought it would be great. It was our anniversary, so everything had to be perfect. I put on my best suit, cooked us a majestic four-course dinner, and spend hours lighting candles all around the house. I even got her these great flowers. She told me that her favorites were blue roses, and that she really liked those, so I looked far and wide for them. I rode all the way to Denver, because nobody in South Park had ever even seen a blue rose. I had to go twice, because Denver had to have them specially ordered. Cost me an arm and a leg, but I bought them. I thought it was worth it, because I thought it would make her happy.

_Sixteen... seventeen..._

I thought it would make her smile. I so wanted her to smile. God, I would walk around the world with concrete shoes just to see her smile- but she didn't. She came over to my house, and she must have noticed that her mere appearance lit me up like a Christmas tree, and for the first time, it made her cringe. I could have known then. Hell, I should have known then. It was so obvious. Like this afternoon, when I bumped into this red-haired girl's 'Love Kills Slowly' patch- that was a sign. God wanted to tell me what would happen tonight, but I didn't listen.

_Eighteen... nineteen..._

"Stan," she told me. "Stan, we need to talk."

_Twenty..._

This wasn't supposed to happen. It's not fair. I bought her the flowers, man. Everything was supposed to be perfect. But instead it all went to hell.

_Twenty-one..._

And that's where I am now. Hundreds of smoldering candles, gifting their dying fumes to the darkness off the room. Blue petals and chopped stems strewn around the table. And there's me, cradling the last of my bottle like a newborn babe. It won't be long now. There will be no more than twelve lines on my paper. Twelve scars to remind me in the morning, when the petals have paled and my mind blanked. Soon now.

_One... two..._


	3. Erotomania

_Erotomania_

_AN: Have some Candy. I somehow don't 'feel' this story, but I can't figure out why it would be bad. It IS an oneshot, but perhaps not of the Empathy-kind.  
Still, I'd say disorders make for great stories. Let me know if you, or any of your other personalities, would agree. Any of you are more than welcome to review._

* * *

Our scene is an empty room. A teen's bedroom, with a single, dusted window that scatters the sunrays to candlelight. It's in a state of neglect: A blanket of dust covers the shelves and nightstand, and the leather seating of the desk chair was ripped to shreds, bleeding its cotton stuffing.

_It's deserted._

No, the room is used. There's several empty bags of chips scattered throughout, and energy drink cans lay stacked on the desk. Here and there, a cheesy poofs has been crushed into the carpet.

Yes, the room is used. But, the disturbing part, is what the room is used _for_. You see, when you'd walk in here, you would be unsettled, because in no way would you see an ordinary child's bedroom. There's no model cars displayed across the shelves; no band posters hanging along the walls. Still, not a single patch of the teal wallpaper is left bare. Every bit of the wall, the desk, and even the door, has been draped over.

_What with?_

Pictures, mostly. Hundreds of them. Placed over each other in layers, because there wasn't the space to accommodate them all.

In the older ones, buried in the deeper layers, she wore her purple beret tilted slightly. About ten years old, there were pictures of her surrounded by a clique of friends, either laughing, or making faces at the camera. There were pictures of her and a guy in brown-and-blue, whom she would lovingly stare at.

Most of the pictures had been damaged, however. Each time, the owner of the room had cut from the pictures all eyes but hers. Her friends were blinded, and the boy with the blue hat was too robbed off his sight. Crudely, as if done by a rusty pair of scissors, or nothing but sharp nails.

The newer layers were made up by the same girl, older now, whose beret was a sparkling white. There were pictures of her friends in these layers, too. Still the same group, eyeless, they were goofing to the lens with her. Her smiling, flawless face was misplaced, almost eerie, among these figures. Like a story meant to spook small children during the nights.

There were pictures of her and a new boy. One that was clad in orange, wrapping a pair of arms around her gentle shoulders. In almost every one of them the boy stood between her and the camera. On every photograph they were touching, her laughing in his embrace. But even when they were kissing, he shielded her from sight with the back of his parka.

_It's like he knew._

But even he wasn't safe. His image, too, was cut along his eyeballs. Hers was the only gaze that cast into the room. Pictures of her alone, sitting on her bed, taken from outside the window. Even one taken from the bushes, of her sunbathing in the garden, topless.

There were article cutouts, too. Tons of them, most of them originating from a school newspaper. Their headlines always differed; spanning from 'Affairs on the equator' to 'Zest of the Panda Bear'. But the subscript, it was always the same.

_'By Wendy Testaburger'_

Like the pictures, the articles, too, were tampered with. With blood-red ink sentences had been underlined, or crossed out. Single words and letters were circled, connected with others by a scarlet line. It was a literal entropy; organized chaos. Patterns of logic only understood by the brains of mad scientists.

_What is their intent?_

The hangings fluttered as the door swung open. A stretched, ocean-blue hat moved into the room. Below it, a boy that made the earth tremble in his step, clutching in his ham-fist yet more items. Mumbling to himself, he laid them out on the desk. A wrapper from a diet candybar, along with another newspaper.

From the drawer, he took the red pen and tore the newspaper to shreds, salvaging only a single page. His face heated up as he studied it, and a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead. Grumbling, he read the article, then re-read it, pinching at it with the sharpie.

Finally, he laughed. It started as a low-pitch snicker, but soon evolved to a maniacal thundering in his stomach. Patting himself, he took from the drawer another paper, which looked like a huge, drawn-out list, on which one item was emphasized above any other.

_She kissed me in fourth grade!!!_

After adding another point, he pinned both the article and the wrapper to the wall, then reached for his drawer again. From it he took a picture, this one being framed, and cradled it close. He planted his lips on the glass, ans sat down on his bed with it. He rocked himself, murmuring a single phrase over and over.

"_Any day now."_

It is unsettling that this room went unnoticed for this long. A boy, neglected by his mother, cast out by his friends, left with only his thoughts. Oh yes, at school they were well aware of the extend of Eric Cartman's twisted mind, but none of them cared to learn the deep roots of his behavior. They were happy to just get away from him. Somewhere along the way, Eric opted for solitude, and the world complied.

_But he isn't alone.._

In his world, Cartman has a deep, requited bond with Wendy. They secretly steal glanced of each other at school, and send each other covert messages, like the characters in great romance epics. Neither had taken their desire beyond an admirer's level yet, but Eric knows that the time is nearly right. Any day now, he will confess his love to her, and they will live happily ever after.

_Now you know._

_Unrequited love is more dangerous than any other form. The brain, never allowed to have its true desire, will only ever strengthen the hormones that trigger the feelings of being in love. Left untreated, the patient will slowly descend into a world the mind forges for them, where the wanted object is thought to return that undying love._


	4. Messages

_Messages_

_Here's something completely different. It's an exercise I've set for myself and it's unlike anything I've ever done before. Also sorry for not updating. I DO intend to continue Special K, I've just had a hard time with it. Until then, enjoy some light, pointless, reading._

_

* * *

_

Did you know? The majority of people out there do not want you to look into their mobile phones. Most of us are highly protective of our message boxes, not allowing anyone, parents, friends or significant others, this insight into their privacy. When somebody close to you shows these tendencies, best let it be. Everybody deserves that tiny space that's completely their own.

Luckily for us, not everyone is equally familiar with these unspoken rules. For some people, curious by nature, nosy by extent, the temptation of snooping into personal property is too hard to let slide.

Which is how it came to be that last night, a mobile phone was found in the isolated hospital known as Hell's Pass. It was stumbled upon by a bored doctor on night shift, who had no clue who this phone may have belonged to. But to cut it short, when he found it, a childlike curiosity got the better of him and he peeked. Peeked into a nameless girl's life.

This is what he found.

**Wednesday, March 5th.**

From:Wendy. 13.20:_ OMG! He couldn't take my eyes off me. Oh Macy's, is there anything you couldn't do?_

From: Kylie 3. 14.50: _Math is boring. Cant wait 2 see you xoxoxoxoxo_

From: Kylie 3. 14.56: _4 more minutes. Cmon!_

From: Wendy. 17.21: _He just texted me. I wonder what he wants. Meh *calls*_

From: Wendy. 17.59: _Just got off the phone. I think there's a chance for us to make it work again._

From: Wendy. 18.04: _Tell me when your home. This calls for girl talk._

From: Beccy. 18.17: _Call me when you get home? Wendy sounds very happy._

From: Beccy. 19.48:_ Still out? Lucky. I wish I had a guy like kyle :(_

From: Kylie 3. 20.37: _Miss u already babe xoxoxoxoxox kyle_

From: Kylie 3. 21.00: _If you think my eyes are beautiful. It's because they're looking at you. Love you. xoxoxoxo kyle_

From: Kylie 3. 21.10: _:3_

From: Kylie 3. 22.54: _Goodnight beautiful. Hope i'll dream about you._

From: Kylie 3. 22.57: _Thanks. Love you too. Very much. xx kyle_

* * *

**Thursday, March 6th**

From: Kylie 3. 7.30: _Morning babe. Thinking of you. xoxoxoxoxo kyle_

From: Wendy. 8.12: _Wake up sleepyhead! You're gonna be late._

From: Beccy. 11.20:_ Brr, dentists are creeps. Lunch at schoolyard?_

From: Kennyzombie. 12.12: _boobs lok gud 2day._

From: Kennyzombie. 12.14: _I c ur bra from her_

From: Kennyzombie. 12.20: _kiddin' god_

From: Kennyzombie. 12.29: _prude ;p_

From: Kylie 3. 13.39: _Look to your right :o_

From: Mom (mob). 16.14: _Working late tonight. You can eat at Wendy's, I already called her mother. Be safe._

From: Wendy. 15.19: _Flick night! Driving to movie rental as we speak._

From: Kylie 3. 15.20: _Does that mean we have your house to ourselves ;)_

From Wendy. 15.24: _Lindsay = white trash. We also need more diet coke._

From: Kylie 3. 15.26: _Awww :( You girls have fun. Xoxoxox kyle_

From: Kylie 3. 15.30: _No biggie. Love you too._

From: Beccy. 16.14: _Can't make it. Heidi Lola and me are kicking it tonight._

From: Beccy. 16.39: _right? Girl powerrr ;d_

From: Clyde (JERK). 17.29: _hey babe. Why don't you talk to me anymore?_

From: Clyde (JERK). 17.41: _You still want me and you know it._

From: Clyde (JERK). 17.51:_ Don't ignore me_

From: Kylie 3. 17.53: _I'm at Stan's having guitar hero night. Will be out for now. Love you so much. Night xoxoxoxoxoxox kyle._

From: Clyde (JERK). 18.03:_ I'll see you at Stark's tomorrow._

* * *

**Friday, March 7th **

From: Kennyzombie. 10.02: _Lol kyle is sleepin_

From: Kennyzombie 10.11: _dunno_

From: Kylie 3. 12.10:_ Omg so sorry babe. I totally overslept. Still love you lots and I'll see you at dinner. Xoxoxoxoxox kyle._

From: Beccy. 13.12: _FUCKING DENTIST. Soon me = braceface. Now he'll never notice me :'(_

From: Beccy. 13.19: _Of course. Bonfires ahoy. Can you come to my house after school though?_

From: Beccy. 13.29: _Makeover? Right..._

From: Wendy. 13.39: _Yep Red texted me. I'm there._

From: Wendy. 13.57: _Ofc._

From: Wendy. 14.10: _Okay. Btw, Kyle's here and he says he loves you more than he hates maths._

From: Wendy. 14.23: _Oh and the teacher just threw Cartman out._

From: Clyde (JERK). 15.39: _Tonight will be sooo awesome. See you there._

From: Stan. 16.20: _Don't worry. If he tries I'll kick his ass._

From: Kylie 3. 17.10:_ You girls having fun? Cu soon. xx kyle_

From: Heidi. 18.30: _Bonfire at stark's right? Nobody invite cartman pretty please._

From: Stan. 19.00: _Is Kyle there?_

From: Stan. 19.30: _Yeah, his phone charger is at my house. I'll see you at Stark's_

From: Stan. 19.37: _Okay._

From: Wendy. 20.44: _You guys almost here?_

From: Beccy. 20.56:_ Hurry please. Stan and Wendy are getting touchy :o_

From: Beccy. 23.23: _What the hell happened?_

From: Beccy. 23.25: _Are you all right?_

From: Beccy. 23.29: _That jerk! I'm at Shakey's._

From: Beccy. 23.34: _He barely even saw me. /hate self._

From: Wendy. 23.45: _Stan and me just kissed goodnight!_

From: Wendy. 23.49: _OMG so sorry. I'll be right over._

From: Kylie 3. 23.49:_ I'm soooo sorry Bebe. When Clyde said that I just couldn't think straight. I love you so much D: Kyle._

From: Kylie 3. 23.54:_ We'll make it work._

* * *

**Saturday, March 8**

From: Kylie 3. 00.19: _We'll talk about it tomorrow. Goodnight._

From: Wendy. 11.19: _Good luck with Kyle. Ice cream at my house just in case._

From: Beccy. 12.59:_ How's it going? Wendy's ice cream is delicious. I've been needing some by now ):_

From: Wendy. 16.30: _Oh my god, sorry Bebe. Come over NOW!_

From: Kylie 3. 17.12:_ Just finished burning all your pictures._

From: Kennyzombie. 20.08: _U fucking serious? Your kyle's girl u bitch_

From: Kennyzombie. 20.18: _I'll do u a favr and not tell kyle about dis._

From: Kennyzombie. 20.22: _Well fck u 2_

From: Clyde (JERK). 20.49: _I know babe. I know._

From: Clyde (JERK). 21.00: _Good to know you came to your senses._

From: Beccy. 22.19: _Heidi said she saw u with Clyde. I don't like the sound of that._

From: Wendy. 22.34: _What the hell's wrong with you!_

* * *

**Sunday, March 9th **

From: Kylie 3. 01.12:_ I knew you were using me anyway you fucking bitch_

From: Kylie 3. 01.19: _I was lying by the way, when I said you were my firs_t.

From: Kennyzombie. 01.33: _Kyle's cryin. hope ur happy slut_

From: Kylie 3. 01.56: That scared me. What are you up to?

From: Wendy. 02.01:_ Don't do anything stupid now, all right?_

From: Wendy. 02.08: _I mean it! You're not thinking straight._

From: Mom (mob). 02.19: _I've gotten a scary call from Wendy. Everything all right?_

From: Kylie 3. 02.24: _Talk to me please!_

From: Beccy. 02.28: _Come back to Wendy's. Kyle's here. He wants to talk._

From: Mom (mob). 02.34: _Answer me please. I'm really worried._

From: Mom (mob). 02.37:_ Answer now or I'm calling the police._

From: Mom (mob). 02.38: _Please!_

From: Kylie 3. 02.39:_ I love you babe. Please don't do it! Plssss xoxoxoxoxoxox kyle_


End file.
